Chapter 156 Angels and Demons
Elsewhere
"Have they left the city limits?" Nora Eilish asked into the phone.
"Yes, Miss Eilish, they seem to be headed toward the resort in C City."
Nora hastily ended the call and dialed Mr. Jobs, the resort manager.
At that time, Mr. Jobs was entertaining clients, drunk and flushed. With a hoarse voice, he answered, "Miss Eilish? To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Have you been drinking?" Nora Eilish furrowed her brow. "Snap out of it, now! Samuel's headed to the resort, and his crew will find you any minute."
"You mean Samuel from the Holland family? What could a big shot like Samuel want with a nobody like me? Am I about to strike it rich?"
"Layla is Samuel's woman."
"Layla? You mean, the one you told me to set up?" Mr. Jobs's voice teemed with panic and instantly sobered, almost to the point of going weak at the knees. "How... how did this happen? Didn't you say Mr. Marley had a thing for her, and you told me to..."
"I'm not here to explain. Your wife and kids are in my hands. You know what you need to do, right?"
Nora Eilish's usually gentle voice now sounded chilly and menacing.
At this point, there was no turning back.
...
Three hours later, Samuel arrived at the resort.
Area A of the resort was completely locked down; all guests had been moved to other sections, and not even a fly could get in.
"Stop, please..."
"Any more, and he'll be dead..."
"Mr. Holland, Mr. Holland, please spare me; I haven't done anything, Mr. Holland..."
Beyond the door, a man's pitiful cries echoed.
A bodyguard emerged from the room, bowing respectfully to the distinguished man smoking at the doorway.
"Boss, we've questioned him. He said that night, he was drinking with a few managers, Miss Adkins and Mr. Marley. He didn't tamper with anything. They all drank, and then Miss Adkins escorted Mr. Marley back to his room."
Samuel took a long drag on his cigarette, his expression growing darker.
"Boss, we got the surveillance footage." Mr. Vandella handed the smartphone to Samuel, who glanced at the screen with sharp eyes. Around ten in the evening, Layla was seen helping Nathan to his room. They exchanged a few words at the door before entering together, and afterward, no one else came or went.
Is this the business trip with Alice she mentioned?
In retrospect, her voice had been tense and eager to hang up. Plus, it hadn't rained at all that night.
She lied!
He'd been oblivious only because his faith in her was unshakeable.
Did she lie to avoid a misunderstanding, or... was it calculated, knowing full well what might happen, yet she deceived him, allowing things to unfold?
Rage blazed within Samuel's chest, his heart felt constricted. His demeanor became grim, and those around him seemed to feel they were in the icy grip of hell itself, trembling and silent, heads bowed, not daring to speak.
“That night... Miss Adkins and Mr. Marley were in the room... all night long until nine in the morning when Miss Adkins finally emerged from Mr. Marley's room," Mr. Vandella said, staring down at his toes, mustering all his strength to get the words out.
What met him wasn't fury but a silence as heavy as death.
And yet, it was more frightening than any storm.
"Crash!"
A cell phone shattered to pieces.
Samuel flicked away his cigarette and stomped it out.
...
The boxing gym.
The sparring partner, gloved and padded, protected himself as devastating blows rained down on his head.
Even with the protective gear, the boxer felt dizzy, his defense weakening by the second.
Samuel's shirt was soaked through, clinging to his toned muscles and the blue veins that stood out prominently. He was like a beast unleashed, fierce, and terrifying. He kept swinging his fists, regardless of his bloodied and raw knuckles.
Sweat flew through the air.
Mr. Vandella watched anxiously from the sidelines, too afraid to intervene.
Not until the boxer spit blood and collapsed did Samuel step back, exhausted, and slump to the ground.
He was drenched in sweat, gasping fiercely, his throat burning and hoarse. His white pupils were threaded with crimson.
Mr. Vandella offered a bottle of water, which Samuel flung away, shattering it.
...
Three in the morning.
Reeking of alcohol, Samuel stumbled home, his eyes red with intense hatred.
"Bodyguard, what's wrong?" Mr. Morris hurried forward to support him, "Where's Miss Adkins?"
"Don't mention her name!" Samuel roared, shoving Mr. Morris away.
He glared at the third-floor room door as if he would kill her without hesitation if she were in there now.
"Throw out everything that woman touched – the bed, the dresser, anything she's laid hands on - get rid of it all!"
Mr. Morris, petrified and confused, pressed Mr. Vandella for answers, "What happened? Did the boss have another fight with Miss Adkins?
"He wasn't this angry the last time they fought.
"Where is Miss Adkins?
"Should we really throw everything out?"
Mr. Vandella patted Mr. Morris on the shoulder, his face a mask of resignation, "Just do as he says."
"But... what's going on that it's gotten this bad? Miss Adkins is still pregnant, for goodness' sake."
"That's exactly why her actions are unforgivable. There's no chance of reconciliation. Just do as you're told." Mr. Vandella offered no further explanation.
…
Samuel stumbled back into his room and downed two more bottles of whiskey.
He woke up around noon to find himself slumped over the bar, head pounding.
Propping up his weakened body, he walked to the bathroom. The man in the mirror had messy hair and a haggard appearance, and his face was as pale as a ghost, lips white as death.
All this mess for a woman.
A self-mocking smirk twisted Samuel's lips.
The next second.
Crash—a fist through the mirror sent shards of glass scattering across the floor.
His knuckles dripped with blood.
…
The room was eerily empty; all the furniture was cleared out.
The vast space now felt even more desolate.
Samuel frowned at the sight.
"Sir," Mr. Morris spoke with a trembling voice, trying not to sound too anxious, "the old furniture has been discarded, and the new pieces are on the way. They'll be here shortly."
He deliberately avoided uttering the name "Miss Adkins."
Samuel withdrew his gaze and headed downstairs with a stern face. The living room had new furniture as well – the couch where Layla once sat and the breakfast table they shared were all replaced with a completely different style.
Yet even so, her presence seemed to linger everywhere. In every corner of the house, her laughter haunted him like a curse, echoing in his mind, causing unbearable headaches, as if a demon was shouting in his skull, ready to burst out at any moment.
Layla.
I thought you were an angel.
Turns out you're a demon.
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